Reflections on Michael Hardt and Antonio
Negri’s Book “Assembly”
Christian
Fuchs
University
of Westminster, London, UK, christian.fuchs@uti.at, @fuchschristian, http://fuchs.uti.at
Abstract: This contribution
presents reflections on Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri’s book “Assembly”
(2017, Oxford: Oxford University Press, ISBN 978-0190677961).
Keywords: assembly, Michael Hardt, Antonio Negri, multitude, common,
entrepreneurship of the multitude, the new Prince, digital capitalism, digital
assemblage, neoliberalism, finance
Hardt and
Negri’s Assembly is a critical, broad, all-encompassing analysis of
contemporary society. It is a major work that turns the trilogy of Empire
(2000), Multitude (2004) and Commonwealth (2009) into a
tetralogy. These four works are organised around a core of concepts (empire,
the multitude, the commons, immaterial labour) that has developed over a time of
seventeen years in response to capitalism’s struggles, contradictions, and
crises. The book intervenes into the most recent developments of society and
social movements. It asks: “Why have the movements, which address the needs and
desires of so many, not been able to achieve lasting change and create a new,
more democratic and just society?”. For providing an answer, Hardt and Negri
analyse recent changes of politics and the economy.
Assembly focuses on a diversity of interconnected
topics such as changes of capitalism, the social production of the commons,
digital assemblages, neoliberalism, financialisation, neoliberalism, right-wing
extremism, protest and political change, political strategies and tactics,
social movements and political parties, the entrepreneurship of the multitude,
the appropriation of fixed capital, prefigurative politics, taking power
differently, antagonistic reformism, political realism, or the new Prince. The
book offers something interesting for lots of different critical groups and
individuals, who care about understanding society and changing it toward the
better.
The book’s main body consists of 295 pages and a ten-page preface
organised in sixteen chapters and four parts. Parts I and IV (“The Leadership
Problem”, “The New Prince”) focus on issues of political strategy and tactics,
whereas parts II and III (“Social Production”, “Financial Command and
Neoliberal Governance”) analyse capitalism’s transformations. The theoretical
approach taken is a critical political economy influenced by Karl Marx, Michel
Foucault, Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, Machiavelli and Spinoza.
Hardt and
Negri analyse capitalism as a contradictory open totality that in its
development has become ever more social and co-operative, but is subject to the
dominant class’ and political elites’ control. A dialectic of crises and
struggles drives the development of these contradictions.
The social production of the commons that are exploited by capital is a
key feature of the contemporary economy and society. “Today production is
increasingly social in a double sense: on one hand, people produce ever more
socially, in networks of cooperation and interaction; and, on the other, the
result of production is not just commodities but social relations and
ultimately society itself” (xv, see also 78).
The common consists for Hardt and Negri of two main forms, the natural
and the social commons (166), that are divided into five types: the earth and
its ecosystems; the “immaterial” common of ideas, codes, images and cultural
products; “material” goods produced by co-operative work; metropolitan and
rural spaces that are realms of communication, cultural interaction and
co-operation; and social institutions and services that organise housing,
welfare, health, and education (166). Contemporary capitalism’s class structure
is for Hardt and Negri based on the extraction of the commons, which includes
the extraction of natural resources; data mining/data extraction; the
extraction of the social from the urban spaces on real estate markets; and
finance as extractive industry (166-171).
Hardt and Negri analyse capitalism as having developed in three phases:
the phase of primitive accumulation, the phase of manufacture and large-scale
industry, and the phase of social production. In chapter 11, they provide a
typology of ten features of these three phases. In this analysis, a difference
between Hardt/Negri’s and David Harvey’s approach becomes evident: Whereas
Harvey characterises capitalism’s imperialistic and exploitative nature based
on Rosa Luxemburg as ongoing primitive accumulation, primitive accumulation is
for Hardt and Negri a stage of capitalist development. They prefer Marx’s
notions of formal and real subsumption for characterising capitalism’s
processes of exploitation and commodification. In an interlude, Hardt and Negri
explicitly discuss this difference of their approach to the one by David Harvey
(178-182).
David
Harvey uses the notions of formal/real subsumption and primitive accumulation
in a converse manner to Hardt/Negri: Whereas primitive accumulation is in his
theory an ongoing process of accumulation by dispossession, formal and real
subsumption characterise two stages in the development of capitalism, one
dominated by absolute surplus-value production, the other by relative
surplus-value production. Harvey (2017, 117) in his most
recent book Marx, Capital and the Madness of Economic Reason says that
Marx describes a “move from a formal (coordinations through market mechanisms)
to a real (under the direct supervision of capital) subsumption of labour under
capital”. “All the features of primitive accumulation that Marx mentions have
remained powerfully present within capitalism’s historical geography up until
now” (Harvey 2003, 145).
Whereas there are commonalities of Harvey and Hardt/Negri’s analysis of
the commons and urban space (see Harvey, Hardt and Negri 2009),
it is evident that there are also differences. There is certainly not one
correct or valid interpretation of Marx. The decisive circumstance is that Marx
200 years after his birth remains the key influence for understanding
capitalism critically. Both Harvey’s and Hardt/Negri’s works are updates of
Marx’s theory under the conditions of 21st century capitalism. As
long as capitalism exists, people will continue to read Marx in order to find
inspiration for how to organise social struggles and will produce new
interpretations of Marx. The deep economic crisis of capitalism that has
been accompanied by political crises has after decades of postmodernist and
neoliberal repression increased the interest in Marx’s works.
Another interesting question that Hardt and Negri’s Assembly
poses implicitly is: In what type of capitalism do we live? What dimension of
capitalism is dominant? This question has recently also been asked in a debate
between Nancy Fraser and Luc Boltanski/Arnaud Esquerre (see Boltanski
and Esquerre 2016, 2017; Fraser 2017).
Boltanski and Esquerre suggest the emergence of a new form of cultural
capitalism that is based on enrichment from collectibles, luxury goods, brands,
arts, heritage, culture, fashion, trends, etc. They speak of the emergence of
an integrated capitalism that is based on four forms of valorisation that are
based on standardised mass production, the collection form, the trend form and
the asset form. Boltanski and Esquerre’s approach shows certain parallels to
Hardt and Negri’s in that both stress that the boundaries of the company and
society and between leisure and labour have in the production of value become blurred:
“Work is no longer concentrated in factories and identified as a factor of
production; instead, the workforce is widely dispersed, divided between public
and private domains, between permanent employees and the informal precariat. It
is also spread across a much wider range of activities, many of which are not
even identified as ‘work’, but rather presented as an expression of ‘desire’ or
‘passion’, even by those who engage in them, often at heavy cost” (Boltanski
and Esquerre 2017, 54).
“Today the divisions of the working
day are breaking down as work time and life time are increasingly mixed and we
are called on to be productive throughout all times of life. With your
smartphone in hand, you are never really away from work or off the clock, and
for a growing number of people, constant access not only confuses the
boundaries between work and leisure but also eats into the night and sleep. At
all hours you can check your e-mail or shop for shoes, read news updates or
visit porn sites. The capture of value tends to extend to envelop all the time
of life. We produce and consume in a global system that never sleeps” (Hardt
and Negri 2017, 185).
Nancy
Fraser (2017) argues that Boltanski and Esquerre overestimate cultural
capitalism and underestimate finance. In her view, finance capitalism is the
dominant form and dimension of capitalism today: “I worry, […] that
Boltanski and Esquerre overestimate enrichment’s importance. Perhaps the latter
is best understood as an exotic corner of present-day capitalism […] My own
candidate for contemporary capitalism’s dominant sector is finance. Despite its
enormous weight and political consequence, finance receives scant attention
from Boltanski and Esquerre” (Fraser 2017, 63).
Hardt and Negri’s Assembly analyses multiple dimensions of
contemporary capitalism: finance capitalism, neoliberal capitalism, and
digital/cognitive capitalism. Their analysis suggests that these dimensions
interact. Although they do not say it explicitly, there are indications that
they see cognitive and digital capitalism as the dominant form and that they
therefore are closer to Boltanski and Esquerre than to Fraser in giving an
answer to the question in what kind of capitalism we live today: The “dominant
figures of property in the contemporary era – including code, images, cultural
products, parents, knowledge, and the like – are largely immaterial and, more
important, indefinitely reproducible” (Hardt and Negri 2017, 187).
Many critical theorists will be able to agree that capitalism is a
dialectical unity of a diversity of dimensions and forms of capitalism that
develop over time so that new aspects emerge, the relevance of certain aspects
shifts, etc. (see Fuchs 2014, chapter 5). My view is that in
order to decide which dimension is dominant at a specific point of time, we not
just require theory and philosophy, but also need to empirically study various
aspects of capitalism, which requires analysing primary and secondary data and
applying Marx’s theory empirically.
For example, one concrete empirical phenomenon, where one can ask what
dimensions of capitalism are present, are transnational corporations (TNCs). In
2014, 33.5% of the profits of the world’s largest 2,000 corporations were
located in the finance, insurance and real estate sector, 19.0% in the mobility
industries, 18.6% in manufacturing, and 17.3% in the information industry (see Fuchs 2016b, table 1). The data suggests that the structure of
transnational corporations is to specific degrees shaped by finance capitalism,
mobility capitalism, hyper-industrial capitalism and
informational/communicative/digital capitalism. But all of these dimensions
interact: Digital media corporations in Silicon Valley and other parts of the
world receive huge injections of venture capital (a specific type of finance
capital), aim at becoming listed on stock markets, and are prone to create
financial bubbles, as the 2000 dotcom crisis showed. Digital communication
advances and is at the same time a result of mobility and time-space compression
(Harvey 1989). As a result, the transport of people and
commodities has been growing. Digital commodities and digital commons are not
weightless, but require not just information work, but also the physical labour
of miners and assemblers in Africa and China, who are part of an international
division of digital labour (Fuchs 2014). Finance capitalism,
mobility capitalism, hyper-industrial capitalism and digital capitalism form a
dialectical capitalist unity that consists of interrelated, contradictory moments.
Capitalism is a unity of many capitalisms that develops dynamically and
historically. A dimension that makes the picture even more complex is
authoritarian capitalism, a form of capitalism that in recent times in the
context of the economic and political crisis of capitalism has become
strengthened, which poses the question how neoliberal capitalism and
authoritarian capitalism are related (Fuchs 2018).
Non-trivial questions emerge in this context that need to be addressed from a
Marxian perspective: What is authoritarianism? What is authoritarian
capitalism? How is it related to fascism, Nazism, right-wing extremism and
nationalism? Is Trump an authoritarian personality, an authoritarian
capitalist, a right-wing extremist, and a neo-fascist? How is the increased
prevalence of right-wing extremism, authoritarianism and nationalism related to
capitalist development (for a detailed analysis see Fuchs 2018).
Hardt and Negri stress the importance of the tradition of Western
Marxism (72-76), especially Georg Lukács and Maurice Merleau-Ponty, who are
representatives of humanist Marxism. The focus on the human subject is indeed a
parallel between Autonomist Marxism and humanist Marxism. Both are concerned
with issues of subjectivity, social change and oppose dogmatic Marxism and
Stalinism. Hardt and Negri stress that Merleau-Ponty advanced a “critique of
Soviet dictatorship, which is presented as totalitarianism against
subjectivity” (75). One should in this context however not forget that the
early Merleau-Ponty (1947/1969) in Humanism and Terror justified
Stalinist terror and defined it as a form of humanism. Later, he clearly moved
away from this position and posited humanism against Stalinism.
Hardt and Negri argue that the tendency of the organic composition of
capital should not be seen as a deterministic law that results in the breakdown
of capitalism, but as a tendency that results in the rise of the general
intellect in capitalism (112-114, 203-206) so that “the general intellect is
becoming a protagonist of economic and social production” (114). Such a
theoretical move shows the connections between Das Kapital and Die
Grundrisse. There is therefore no need to stress “Marxism against Das
Kapital” (72). It is much more constructive to focus on the continuities
between both books. So for example the Grundrisse’s notion of general
intellect reappears in Das Kapital as allgemeine Arbeit (general
labour), Gesamtarbeiter (collective worker) and cognitive and
communicative aspects of work (Fuchs 2016c, 30, 36-37, 53-54,
171-172, 192-193, 239-240, 334, 364). Also class struggle is not alien to Das
Kapital, but an integral feature that Marx especially discusses in
historical passages that focus on struggles about the length and intensity of
the working day (see Fuchs 2016c, chapters 10 & 15). It
is therefore no accident that political readings of Das Kapital have
also emerged within Autonomist Marxism (Cleaver 2000).
Communication
and communications have in Marxist theory traditionally been treated as a
secondary, superstructural phenomenon of minor importance. As a consequence,
the critical theory of communication is today almost entirely associated with
Jürgen Habermas’ theory of communicative action that advances a dualist ontology
that separates work from communication and the economy from the lifeworld (Fuchs 2016a). Hardt and Negri are among those critical
theorists, who have given serious attention to the analysis of communication
and the digital in capitalism. Assembly continues in this vain. The
decisive point to make is not that everyone should agree with every aspect of
their analysis or to claim that digitality is the dominant reality of
capitalism, but that Hardt and Negri afford space and time to the analysis of
communication and the digital. The analysis of communication and digital
communication should not be left to the postmodernists, neoliberals,
Habermasians and Luhman(n)iacs, but rather be approached from the perspective
of Marxist theory (see Fuchs 2017, 2016a, 2016c, 2015b, 2014,
2011, 2008; Fuchs and Fisher 2015; Fuchs
and Mosco 2016a, 2016b). Hardt and Negri have made an important
contribution to the foundations of the emergence of communicative and digital
Marxism.
In Assembly, Hardt and Negri conceive of the digital as a
contradictory realm that poses both potentials for domination and liberation.
Digital communication plays a role throughout the entire book and is the
specific focus of chapter 7. Although Hardt and Negri do not like the term
dialectic, we can say that their analysis of digital communication is a
manifestation of a dialectic critical theory of communication that is both
opposed to the techno-determinism of techno-optimism and techno-pessimism (see Fuchs 2011, chapter 3, for a detailed discussion of this
distinction).
Hardt and Negri oppose their analysis of technology to the approaches of
Horkheimer/Adorno and Heidegger, whom they see as techno-pessimists (107-109).
There are, however, three important differences between Horkheimer/Adorno and Heidegger:
For
Horkheimer and Adorno, capitalism’s instrumental reason is the problem, not
technology as such, whereas Heidegger opposes all modern technologies and longs
for a pre-modern society without mass media, public transport and electronic
communications.
Adorno
did not oppose technology and in less well known works grounded foundations of
an alternative use of contemporary technologies for emancipatory purposes (Fuchs 2016a, chapter 3). A problem of the reception of
Horkheimer and Adorno is that there is too much focus on the Dialectic of
the Enlightenment’s culture industry-chapter, which overlooks other works.
The
publication of Heidegger’s Schwarze Hefte (Black Notebooks) has recently
shown that his thought was profoundly anti-Semitic, whereas Adorno was a
critical theorist of fascism and anti-Semitism and opposed fetishistic forms of
thought and action (see Fuchs 2015a, 2015c)
Hardt and
Negri discern among three phases of modern socio-technological development:
automation, digitisation and digital algorithms. In the latter phase,
algorithms play a key role in the organisation of exploitation, domination,
administration, surveillance and the emergence of digital Taylorism (131-133).
Since 2009, there has been a debate about how to
best understand digital prosumption and social media’s targeted
advertising-based capital accumulation models from a Marxist perspective.
Categories such as productive labour, rent, rent-becoming-labour, reproductive
labour and unproductive labour have in this context been utilised to the point
of theoretical exhaustion (see Fuchs and Fisher 2015, Fuchs 2014, and especially chapter 5 in Fuchs 2015
for an overview of the most common arguments and counter-arguments in the
digital labour debate). Hardt and Negri in Assembly take a clear
position on these questions: “Social media too have discovered mechanisms to extract value from the
social relationships and connections among users. Behind the value of data, in
other words, stands the wealth of social relationships, social intelligence,
and social production” (169). “Those astronomical stock valuations of digital
and social media corporations are not just fictional. The corporations have
sucked up vast reserves of social intelligence and wealth as fixed capital”
(287). The “processes of expropriating value established by such algorithms are
also increasingly open and social in a way that blurs the boundaries between
work and life. Google users, for instance, are driven by interest and
enjoyment, but even without their knowing it, their intelligence, attention,
and social relations create value that can be captured” (119).
Yet exploitation, expropriation and domination are just one side of
digital capitalism. Digital technologies are ambivalent and through the
contradictory development of the productive forces also advance the
socialisation of work and increase the co-operative character of life and
society. Hardt and Negri therefore oppose smashing digital machines. They argue
for the “reappropriation of fixed capital, taking back control of the physical
machines, intelligent machines, social machines, and scientific knowledges that
were created by us in the first place, is one daring, powerful enterprise we
could launch in that battle” (120). Appropriating fixed capital “is not a
matter of struggling against or destroying machines or algorithms or any other
forms in which our past production is accumulated, but rather wresting them
back from capital, expropriating the expropriators, and opening that wealth to
society” (287). Hardt and Negri stress the insight that given that technologies
are made by humans, they shouldn’t be left to capital and the state as tools of
domination, but should be transformed into tools of emancipation.
In later chapters of Assembly, it becomes evident that when speaking of the appropriation of fixed capital, Hardt and Negri have particularly the leaking of information (e.g. WikiLeaks), open access and the use of digital technologies in protests in mind (128, 214, 273, 294). Hardt and Negri’s analysis of the digital as contradictory is a contemporary manifestation of a dialectical analysis of technology. Marx grounded such a theory not just in the Grundrisse, but also in Capital Volume 1’s chapter on Machinery and Large-Scale Industry (see Fuchs 2016c, chapter 15). We need to add several qualifications to Hardt and Negri’s analysis of the digital (see especially Fuchs 2017):
The history of alternative media is a history of precarious, self-exploitative labour that has to do with the conundrum that fighting within capitalism against and beyond capitalism requires resources, which are more difficult to obtain when you do not work for-profit, but in self-managed, autonomous co-operatives. We therefore also need left radical reformist media politics that together with media activism advance radical media reforms (such as the taxation of digital advertising and digital corporations, a participatory media fee that redistributes capital and advertising taxation through participatory budgeting to non-profit media, etc.).
Given the dominance of individualism and the Californian neoliberal ideology in the digital industries and digital culture, there is a real danger that alternative projects (including free software, Wikipedia, WikiLeaks, platform coops, network commons, non-commercial open access, etc.) turn into lifestyle politics, individualistic clicktivism, the commodification of the digital commons and a libertarian form of capitalism. Such developments are no automatism, but are a danger that shows the need for political movements that strengthen and struggle for digital commonism.
Alternative digital media are not limited to progressive, left-wing phenomena such as Alternet, Democracy Now, The Real News, etc. Also the far-right has established its own alternative digital media that act as alternatives to the liberal mainstream media. Some far-right digital media, such as Breitbart and Drudge Report, significantly exceed the popularity, visibility and attention that left-wing digital media achieve. Communication struggles therefore need to not just focus on how to challenge the capitalist mainstream media’s power, but also on how to fight against far-right media (Fuchs 2018).
In the online world, the main power asymmetry does not concern the control of the means of digital production, but the capitalist attention economy: In the flood of information processed at high speed, alternative and critical knowledge has a much harder time to be visible and gain attention than the content advanced by tabloids, brands, corporations with large advertising budgets, celebrities, and entertainment corporations. Appropriating fixed capital therefore needs to entail the transformation of the digital towards a new logic that advances engagement, criticality and debate. We for example need online equivalents of Club 2, a new form of YouTube that becomes Club 2.0.
Besides
alternative media, there is also a tradition of public service media that to a certain
degree resists the logic of commodification and profit, but in many countries
is prone to political particularism. Just like the Left should take power
differently, it should also struggle not just for alternative digital media,
but also a public service Internet that transforms the structures of public
service media.
Recent
left-wing politics has seen a shift from the politics of occupations to the
politics of movement-parties. The movements supporting Bernie Sanders and
Jeremy Corbyn are the two most striking examples. Reflecting on the question
what kind of strategy and tactics today can best advance struggles for a
society of the commons, Hardt and Negri oppose one-sided left-wing politics. Assembly
argues that leaderless horizontality, centralised party politics, prefigurative
politics, radical reformism and revolutionary politics all have their limits,
problems and pitfalls. Hardt and Negri make arguments for a dialectical
politics that combines different forms, strategies and tactics of struggle.
In chapter 4, Hardt and Negri analyse contemporary far-right politics.
The aim of contemporary right-wing movements is to “restore an imagined
national identity that is primarily white, Christian, and heterosexual” (50). Hardt
and Negri argue that contemporary far-right politics often imitates left-wing
movements and are organised as leaderless and structureless movements so that
they are different from to classical right-wing movements. Donald Trump is
arguably the most influential far-right politician today. Trump, who is with
one mentioning almost absent in Assembly, certainly undermines
established party-structures. But at the same time he has used money, ideology
and popularity to build new structures. And he constitutes a new form of
authoritarian, right-wing leadership, in which the power of big politics and
big capital are fused in one person, the authoritarian spectacle mobilises
citizens via reality TV and social media, and a narcissistic self-branding
machine engages in constant friend/enemy-politics that takes symbolic political
violence to a new level (see Fuchs 2018). Trump is a
non-trivial far-right phenomenon that is neither completely new nor completely
old, but a development of the strategy and tactics of the far-right.
Hardt and Negri argue both against leaderless
horizontality that rejects organisation and institutions and against
centralised authority in progressive movements. “Theoretical investigations,
for instance, of the increasingly general intellectual, affective, and
communicative capacities of the labor force, sometimes coupled with arguments
about the potentials of new media technologies, have been used to bolster the
assumption that activists can organize spontaneously and have no need for institutions
of any sort” (7). Political leaders of social movements have often been
repressed externally by violence and ideology (9) and internally by
anti-authoritarianism (9-10). Hardt and Negri also oppose vanguard parties and
pure electoral parties. “Progressive electoral parties, in the opposition and
in power, can tactically have positive effects, but as a complement to not a
substitute for the movements” (8). They call for an inversion of roles that
gives “strategy to the movements and tactics to the leadership” (18).
They speak of tactical leadership as leadership that is “limited to short-term
action and tied to specific occasions” (19). Hardt and Negri make an argument
that social movements should “strive not to take power as it is but to take
power differently” (xiii-xiv). Taking power entails building new institutions
beyond representative democracy and building new democratic institutions. The
two authors stress the complex relation of centralised Power
(potestas/pouvoir/poder/Macht) and power as potential
(potentia/puissance/potencia/Vermögen).
Hardt and Negri argue for a political strategy that combines
prefigurative politics, antagonistic reformism and taking power to overthrow
existing institutions and create new democratic ones (274-280). Employing just
one of these forms of politics often faces problems and limits. Assembly argues
for the complementarity of the three political strategies: “The taking of
power, by electoral or other means, must serve to open space for autonomous and
prefigurative practices on an ever-larger scale and nourish the slow
transformation of institutions, which must continue over the long term.
Similarly practices of exodus must find ways to complement and further projects
of both antagonistic reform and taking power” (278). Example projects that such
a complementary left-wing politics could struggle for include guaranteed basic
income as “a money of the common” (294) and “open access to and democratic
management of the common” (294). Such a form of left-wing politics constitutes
a new Machiavellian Prince that does not put Power, but the common first
(chapter 13).
In more concrete terms, Hardt and Negri argue for a politics of
left-wing convergence, in which unions and social movements converge into
social unionism that organises social strikes against the exploitation of the
social production of the common.
Isn’t the
left-wing politics that Hardt and Negri argue for a kind of Luxemburgism 2.0 in
the age of the social production of the common? Rosa Luxemburg in her time argued
against Eduard Bernstein’s pure parliamentary social democratic reformism. She
opposed anarchist individualism and propagated using the mass strike as
political tactic. Luxemburg neither rejected nor fetishished parliamentary
politics. She rejected Leninist vanguard party politics and argued for
organising the spontaneity of protest. She opposed war, imperialism and
nationalism with internationalist politics. She saw that the limitation of
democracy in post-revolutionary Russia was a serious shortcoming that would
create major problems. Luxemburg argued for dialectics of party/movements,
organisation/spontaneity, leader/masses (see Luxemburg 2008).
The point, where we need to transcend Luxemburg’s politics today is that she
was very sceptical about the feasibility of autonomous projects, especially
co-operatives. Self-management cannot start from nothing in a new society. It
needs social forms that germinate in capitalism and produce seeds that as a
common point beyond profit and wage-labour.
Hardt and Negri oppose both neoliberal entrepreneurship that resonates
“especially in the digital world of dotcoms and start-ups” (142) and social
entrepreneurship that is a “social neoliberalism” (145) that outsources welfare
state to voluntary action, charities, and communities. “The nexus of social
neoliberalism and social entrepreneurship destroy community networks and
autonomous modes of cooperation that support social life” (146).
Hardt and Negri understand politics as not just taking place on the
streets, in factories, squares and offices, but also in the realm of language
and communication. They argue that we must politically take and transform the
meaning of words and argue that “transforming words themselves, giving them new
meanings” (151) is part of political struggle. “Sometimes this involves coining
new terms but more often it is a matter of taking back and giving new
significance to existing ones” (151). “Indeed one of the central tasks of
political thought is to struggle over concepts, to clarify and transform their
meaning” (xix)
In this vein, Hardt and Negri argue for transforming the meaning of
entrepreneurship. Chapter 9 is dedicated to the “Entrepreneurship of the
Multitude”. “It is important to claim the concept of entrepreneurship for our
own” and not leave it to neoliberal managers and gurus (xix). By the
“democratic entrepreneurship of the multitude”, Hardt and Negri understand the
politics of social unionism (social movements + unions) that organises social
strikes. Social unions entails “organizing new social combinations, inventing
new forms of social cooperation, generating democratic mechanisms for our
access to, use of, and participation in decision-making about the common”
(xix). The entrepreneurship of the multitude aims at “self-organization and
self-governance” (146). “Social unionism […] by combining the organizational
structures and innovations of labor unions and social movements, is able to
give form to the entrepreneurship of the multitude and the potential for revolt
that is inherent in social production” (224).
The transformation of meanings associated with words as political
strategy can certainly work for terms such as democracy, freedom, liberty,
human rights, or the republic. But does it work for the term entrepreneurship?
Or the nation? Or capitalism? It would for example be absurd and confusing to
argue that we need to construct communism as a different capitalism. The word
“capitalism” is so much engrained with the meanings of exploitation and class
that trying to appropriate it might very well turn out to be counterproductive.
So what about the meaning of entrepreneur, entrepreneurial and
entrepreneurialism?
Ernst Bloch suggests fighting the Nazis and fascism should also entail
symbolic struggles over words so that communists and socialist appropriate the
words that fascists use and give them a different meaning. He argued that the
words home and homeland (Heimat) should not be left to the fascists, but
be used differently: Capitalism alienates humans from society, nature and
themselves as their home. Socialism (or what today we could call commonism or a
commons-based democracy) is in contrast for Bloch a true homeland that
overcomes capitalism and the particularism of nationalist homeland ideology:
“But the root of history is the working, creating human being who reshapes and
overhauls the given facts. Once he has grasped himself and established what is
his, without expropriation and alienation, in real democracy, there arises in
the world something which shines into the childhood of all and in which no one
has yet been: homeland” (Bloch 1995, 1375-1376).
Hardt and
Negri are like Ernst Bloch intransigent optimists, who use the construction of
hope as a political weapon in the struggle for alternatives and believe in
creating concrete utopias of the common as projects of class struggle.
Commonism is a not-yet. The struggles of the multitude are the struggle for
realising a political not-yet.
In countries, where right-wing extremists win elections and are a major
threat, giving a progressive meaning to the terms home and homeland is a
feasible political tactic in order to try to win over protest voters who are
afraid of social decline. The far-right populist Norbert Hofer almost won the
2016 Austrian presidential election. His party, the Freedom Party (FPÖ), has
for many years campaigned against immigration by presenting migrants as a
threat to the Austrian homeland. Figures 1 and 2 show two examples, in which
Islam and Moroccan immigrants are presented as criminals and enemies to the
homeland.
Figure 1: Election poster of the Freedom Party of Austria (“Love of the
Homeland instead of Moroccan Thieves”)
Figure 2: Election poster of the Freedom Party of Austria (“Homeland instead of
Islam”)
The Green
Party candidate Alexander Van der Bellen in the 2016 Austrian
presidential
election appropriated the term homeland and gave a different meaning to
it:
Social security and solidarity (see figures 3 and 4). He won the
run-off
election against Hofer and became Austrian president. Constructing a
different
meaning of the word “home” was used as linguistic and communicative
tactic to
counter the threat of far-right politics. Under specific
political conditions, such as the presence of strong right-wing
extremist parties, culture jamming, linguistic détournement and
semiotic struggle form a feasible method of political struggle.
Figure 3: Election poster of Alexander Van der Bellen in the Austrian
Presidential Election 2016 (“Homeland needs solidarity”)
Figure 4: Election poster of Alexander Van der Bellen in the Austrian
Presidential Election 2016 (“Those who love our homeland, do not divide it”)
But can the
same strategy work for the word entrepreneurship? The term entrepreneur comes
from the Old French entreprendre that means to undertake and begin
something. The term was introduced to the English language in the early 19th
century. In the world of classical political economy, Jean-Baptiste Say
introduced the term of the entrepreneur in the early 19th century in
his book A Treatise of Political Economy (Traité d'économie
politique) that was first published in 1803:
The entrepreneur “employs, disposes of, and wholly consumes” capital, “but in a
way that reproduces it, and that with profit” (Say 1971/1821,
113). 200 years later, the Encyclopaedia Britannica understands entrepreneurs as the “business class” and the entrepreneur as the “businessman” (Cornwall 2010).
It claims that economic growth takes place “under
the leadership of an entrepreneurial class”. Entrepreneurs according to this
understanding undertake “enterprise investment” that aims at the “growth in
labour productivity and GNP” (Cornwall 2010).
Over more than 200 years, the term entrepreneur has been used in an
individualistic and capitalistic manner for signifying an individual capitalist
who invests and accumulates capital and exploits workers. Is it realistic that
now the different political meaning of social unionism can be given
successfully to this bourgeois term that signifies individualism and
capitalism? There are certain terms that are so corrupted that they should better
be discarded than appropriated. It would also not make sense to try to redefine
what capitalism is and to give a new meaning to this term. The effect would be
that everyone would think one justifies capitalism and does not want to abolish
it. We need some words that signify what we oppose. Capitalism and
entrepreneurialism are among these negative terms that cannot in a meaningful
way undergo a determinate linguistic negation. The risk of appropriating the
terms entrepreneur, entrepreneurial and entrepreneurship for progressive
purposes is that it is misunderstood as encouraging the commodification of
activism. Social unionism is an important political strategy, but it can be
called by that name. We do not need a bourgeois category for it. Why do we for
instance not instead of speaking of political entrepreneurship and the
entrepreneurship of the multitude, use as Paolo Gerbaudo (2012)
suggests, the terms political choreography and the choreographers of the
multitude?
Hardt and
Negri’s Assembly is an important intervention into contemporary
politics. It advances a critical analysis of contemporary capitalism that is
shaped by neoliberalism, finance capital, nationalism, right-wing extremism,
the common, co-operation, immaterial labour, the digital, algorithms, digital
labour, digital assemblages, digital domination, and digitally mediated social
struggles. Hardt and Negri are ruthless critics of capitalism and bureaucracy
as well as intransigent optimists, who care about the next steps in progressive
social movement politics.
Assembly argues for rethinking left-wing strategies and
tactics. Its authors criticise one-sided approaches and argue for dialectics of
movement/leadership, spontaneity/organisation, revolution/reform. The
appropriation of fixed capital is an important feature of the suggested
strategy and tactics. Hardt and Negri term this politics the new Prince and the
entrepreneurship of the multitude.
The key strength of the book is the multitude of dimensions, ideas and
provocations that the analysis advances, which makes it a book that will be
read by many activists, citizens, scholars and other (im)material workers, who
care about a better future and are looking for ways to transform society in
progressive ways. Assembly is a brave and intelligent intervention that
will influence our debates, struggles, theories, critiques, praxis, strategies
and tactics in the coming years.
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Christian
Fuchs is a critical
theorist of communication and society. He is professor at the University of
Westminster and co-editor of the journal tripleC: Communication, Capitalism
& Critique (http://www.triple-c.at).
@fuchschristian http://www.triple-c.at